


Fear Me, Love Me

by Turnandfacethepaige



Series: Labyrinth Au [3]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016)
Genre: Labyrinth AU, M/M, Pining, The Labyrinth Au returns!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 11:27:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11462631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turnandfacethepaige/pseuds/Turnandfacethepaige
Summary: This was it. The whole journey had come to this moment.





	Fear Me, Love Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [boys will be (kissing) boys](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=boys+will+be+%28kissing%29+boys).



> This was it. The whole journey had come to this moment.
> 
> boys will be (kissing) boys, the comment you left me on Within You has kept me carry on writing even when I struggled with bad writer's block. This one is for you.

Stephen touched down on the jagged sandstone without a sound.

The Escher nightmare had long since vanished away above him - or was it behind him? It had drifted away, parted like clouds as he had jumped from the ledge. And now he was here, at the end of the world, standing on an island that looked like it was haphazardly stuck together, glued at the last minute, drifting through the darkness of space.

There was no sound that he could hear. His heartbeat, which had pounded so loudly, pulsated beneath his skin as he tore through the corridors and stairs, had died down as he tumbled, and was now lying peaceful beneath the surface of his skin, like it had never been there to begin with. There was nobody there apart from him. It was like he had ended up in some other world, some other galaxy, stuck to float aimlessly amongst the darkness. Only him and the stars.

It was silent. Quiet like a tomb, and lonely. 

Stephen wanted to go home.

But how could he? There was no exit and certainly no doors. There was a marble archway that stood jaggedly across from him, but all he could make out from the gaping doorway was more stars, more darkness, and Stephen didn't fancy flinging himself off any more buildings anytime soon, regardless of whether or not they were in the real world or some stupid labyrinth. 

He'd done it to get Christine. She'd been sat below him, blinking big blue eyes at him, but as soon as he'd jumped she'd vanished, materialised away in a soft blur. And so it was all for nothing. 

Stephen glanced around. A slight breeze brushed through the thin fabric of his clothing, but nothing more than that.

This just sucked. One more moment to add to the shit pile that had already happened to him today.

But it was good, the silence, for one thing at least. It meant he could focus more on Mordo. 

Or what he thought of Mordo. Or what Mordo thought of him. Or what Mordo didn't think of him, if he was going to go there.

This whole time, this whole adventure, if you could call it that, maybe it hadn't been a game. Not a sick, twisted king sat upon a throne, surrounded by goblins and a grizzling baby, jeering and laughing as a teenager struggled to succeed. Not a power game of cat and mouse where the cat strode across the ballroom like he owned every soul in it, headed towards an awkward boy dressed in white, glittering eyes pinning him down with lusty power. Not some weird entity, chasing a boy through a maze. 

What if it wasn't any of that? What if it had never meant to be like that? What if it was just one man, sitting around, waiting for something to happen, waiting for something to lighten up the dark, murky life in the underground? Just a fairy preening for hours over his makeup, hoping that it would make the boy that made his heart flutter look at him and never turn away. Just a robed figure, standing silhouetted against an archway, waving his hands and watching the stars crawl like ants as they moved into position for a boy running through the darkness. Just Mordo, hunched over a crystal ball, eyes chasing every movement, every flash of Stephen Strange as he made his way towards his sister.

Or was he just overthinking it? Who would set up all this, go to such lengths, simply for one pimply teenage brat? Not any adult, and certainly not any king Stephen could think of anyways.

But Mordo wasn't most kings. Mordo wasn't even a damn human to begin with. 

Something shifted in the corner of Stephen's eye and he turned to face it.

Mordo stood in one of the archways, shadows slanting dark and ghostly across his face. He took a step forward, light cracking open over his face to reveal it was blank save for a steady glower that remained fixed on Stephen's face.

This was it. The whole journey had come to this moment. The moment he completed the speech, jeered at the Goblin King's face in triumph and took back his baby sister, returned home with pride burning deep within his heart, warming his soul because he knew that he'd beaten him, that he'd stood toe-to-toe with the Goblin King, and WON.

But he didn't feel triumphant. He felt hollow, like he'd been cheated out of something. 

This was nothing to be proud of.

Mordo walked towards him, each step heavy with presence, wrapped in a white satin cloak that flowed across his shoulders and swept to the floor. His shirt, trousers and riding boots had all changed to a bright swatch of white, similar to the shade of Stephen's own shirt. Stephen found himself absent-mindedly wondering how Mordo managed to change his clothes so quickly all the time. Maybe he had some sort of magic that allowed it to happen. But then Mordo was taking another step, getting closer, and Stephen knew he had to start talking.

This was how it went in the book. Get approached by the Goblin King. Say the speech. Get the kid back. Go home.

Easy.

Stephen opened his mouth and said in a voice that was barely above a whisper, 'I've come for the child.'

Mordo's expression didn't so much as twitch. He took another step and said, distant and blank, 'Stephen, beware. I have been generous until now. But I can be cruel.'

Stephen felt his mouth drop. What the hell was Mordo going on about now? 

He said, incredulously, 'Generous? What have you done that generous?'

Mordo whipped as fast as a snake around into Stephen's face and snapped, harsh and grating, 'Everything!'

He took a step away, beginning to circle him, 'Everything that you wanted, I have done. You asked for the child to be taken; I took him. You cowered before me; I was frightening. I have re-ordered time,' he held out a hand, and behind him, a clock stood, hanging in mid-air, the hands whirling faster than infinity, 'I have turned the world upside down, and I have done it all for you.'

He took a step back, the anger and harshness fading from his features as he surveyed him. When he spoke, he sounded winded. 'I am exhausted living up to your expectations of me. Isn't that generous?'

Stephen swallowed. There was a hollow queasiness beginning to bubble in his stomach, blocking up his throat. What it was that made him take another step, look Mordo straight in the eyes and speak again, he didn't know. 

But with a weak, almost pathetic sort of bravery, he stepped forward, and said, 'Through dangers untold, and hardships unnumbered, I have fought my way here, to the castle beyond the goblin city.'

He took a step, pressing forward against the strength of Mordo's gaze, even as his eyes began to swim with despair and his mouth curled back in irritated sadness, and continued, 'F-for my will is as strong as yours, and my-'

And then Mordo was grabbing his hand, hissing, 'Stop!'

The heat of his hand, warm and soothing against Stephen's own, skinny wrist, butchered the words in his mouth. He stared as Mordo took a step closer, eyes seeking deep into Stephen's own.

This wasn't in the book. This didn't happen. The hero beat down the Goblin King. The Goblin King didn't try to strike back.

Mordo breathed, 'Wait.'

Stephen felt his breathing stop as Mordo ran his spare hand up to Stephen's face, cupping his cheekbones, thumb gently tracing the underside of his jaw, hovering above his pulse point, caressing him like a lover. His other hand remained the same, gently holding onto Stephen's arm like a bracelet. But all the time, his eyes never left Stephen's, never once faltered in their intensity and deepness.

He murmured, 'Look, Stephen. Look at what I'm offering you. Your dreams.'

His dreams. His dreams. 

This was a dream, wasn't it? In the real life, you didn't get beautiful men arrange the stars for you, or dress you up in white silk and whirl you round a ballroom. Real life was school work, and preparing for medical school, and applying for university, and looking out for his baby sister. The real world was heartbreak, and it was shattered dreams, and it was real, it was fucking real life - not a dream standing on the edge of the world, where a man who looked like an angel cut from onyx held you as though you were more precious than anything he'd ever held in his life, looked into your eyes and implored you to change.

What were dreams when the real world demanded you?

What were dreams when all they'd ever caused you was heartbreak?

And Stephen whispered, voice tiny amongst the cosmos and the sound of his heart, racing, pleading in his ears, 'And my kingdom is great.'

A flash of desperation ran through Mordo's eyes. He brought his hand up to Stephen's, holding on, knotting his fingers together, palm to palm, and spoke, his voice low and pleading, hair curling around his shoulders until it curtained everything off, so it was only him and Stephen standing amidst the stars, 'I ask for so little. Just let me rule you; and you can have everything that you want.'

The words weighed down Stephen's mind, and all he could do was dumbly repeat, 'Kingdom is great.'

Something came after that. Something important. The most important part of the whole story. But not as important as the man before him now, clinging to him and begging him to stay.

Anything he wanted. Anything was a lot. Anything was everything. And anything was Mordo, anything was here, in the Labyrinth, chasing the Ancient One and Kaecilius and Wong through the woods. Anything was all of this and more. Anything was staying.

So Mordo did want him. Maybe not in a weird, sexy kind of way. More like a isolated, lonely man who wanted someone for company. Company that Stephen could give him.

But Christine - what about Christine? Because as the world that he could have with Mordo raced through his mind, all he could picture was his father, coming home from dinner, stepping into an empty house, tearing up the stairs to his children's rooms and finding them empty. His father weeping, not knowing where his children had gone. His step-mother, shrieking in horror. And for a horrific, sickening moment, he had a vision of his father, grey and old with age, sitting in a chair by the window in some care-home, waiting for when Stephen would come back, for his children to show up.

Stephen couldn't do that to him. He couldn't. 

It was unfair. It was so unfair he wanted to cry from it.

Mordo must have seen it, seen the grief flash wildly in his eyes, because he leaned his forehead against Stephen's, his breath sugar sweet against his face, his skin smooth and warm, and he brought Stephen's hand to his chest, allowing him to feel his heartbeat against the ruffled lace and satin of his shirt and cloak, and said in a voice that rumbled in Stephen's bones, 'Just fear me, love me. Do as I say, and I will be your slave.'

His voice cracked on the final sentence, and Stephen knew, at that moment, he knew beyond all doubt. The answer lay clean before him. 

Mordo loved him.

Not the Goblin King. Not the champion of the labyrinth.

Just one sad, lonely loser who managed to find another. And it would have been funny, if it wasn't so sad.

And the rest of the speech flowed back to him, one last sentence, and it would be all over, all done, and he'd never see him again. Mordo would never get Christine again, never terrify their family again. He'd only be present in dreams now.

And Mordo stared at him, breathing against him, his mouth open, lips wet with saliva, eyes open and gazing, imploring, his heart beat racing beneath his fingertips.

He was throwing away his one shot of happiness. He would never, ever get this chance again.

And Stephen looked up into eyes the colour of the earth after a storm and said, his voice cracking with tears and unsaid confessions, 'You have no power over me.'

Silence.

And then a snap. And then a crack. And then the ground was lurching beneath his feet, Mordo's warmth jerking away from him as Stephen was torn apart. The stars began to burn around him, blurring into a yellow, warming light as Stephen began to fall again, down into the reality that awaited him. The sandstone floor cracked beneath his feet, and the archways blurred into nothingness. 

And as he fell, down, down, down, as the world crashed and burnt around him, he spotted Mordo, fading into a mist of silky sheets and white mist, ghostly dark amongst the soft white mist.

Tears, delicate as the stars, poured down his face, and as Stephen watched, he saw his mouth open, and something heart broken cry out from it.

And though he’d never admit it, as Stephen fell, down through the rivers of time and reality, as the world bent and warped around him, as he tumbled down through the cracks of that place, where if you looked hard enough, if you strained hard enough, if you tore open your chest and ripped the soul still beating from within you and held it, dripping blood and tears and sweat and stars, over the abyss, you could see a version of yourself from some other, terrible place, staring back at you - 

As he fell, something broke and cried out with him.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah I love me some heartbreak and pining so this is how it goes.  
> I haven't updated anything in ages, so consider this an apology :D  
> I really wanted to say a massive thank you to everyone who has commented on and left kudos on the last two labyrinth fics, because without you, I wouldn't have written this fic.  
> I have a tumblr! Come and check me out at turn-and-face-the-paige!


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